Fluffy Boiii !!!!!!!!! :D

fluffy boiii !!!!!!!!! :D

Innocent Abominations

Optimus can feel it, he can feel the twisted nature of the Terrans. Logically he knows they are good, they are kind and wonderful sparklings who need only love and guidance to grow. But Primus... the Matrix screams that they. Must. Die.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

They were a dying race, that much was clear. The youngest amongst them was Bumblebee, and he had not even lived to see the height of Cybertron's glory. He was forged during the war and only knew its wrath. Such was their reality, where their youngest had been in existence for millennia. Without the Allspark, their people were doomed to extinction, a slow and agonizing end to a species that once dominated their corner of the galaxy and forged wonders greater than any others of their time.

As such, the enframing of newsparks should have been cause for increadible celebration... and yet, as Optimus looked upon the two sparklings that were bound to the human spawn born of Dorothy, he found himself conflicted. His spark sang with joy at the revelation of new life, regardless of its Earthly origin. The Terrans were forged on Earth, but all their scans showed they were most certainly Cybertronian down to the core of their CNA. The bonds they held with the humans were unusual, along with their ability to live without energon to fuel them, however aside from those oddities, they were normal. Twitch and Thrash were wonderfully innocent, both so very kind and untainted by the curse of war.

The parts of Optimus that remained Orion demanded he spend time with the new little lives that frolicked around him. However as he looked upon them, another part of his being, the places where the Matrix dug into his spark... they revolted in disgust. The Terrans were to the part of him that was changed to be a Prime, a disgrace, a taint, a threat. The Matrix prodded, it made its demands, and while it seemed hesitant, it grew adamant as it urged him onward, pushing him to draw his axe and end the sparklings before they could grow and become and anathema worthy of note. His nature from his time as Orion screamed in outrage at that idea, and thus, Optimus found himself forever at war with himself.

Twitch was such an excitable sparkling, so eager to learn and willing to mature. She would become a fantastic leader and a wise teacher given time. Thrash was similarly enthusiastic, but he was calmer, more inclined toward the calmer things in life, at least that is what Optimus predicted should the sparkling be given time. They were young, and while they learned much from humanity, they needed to recall their origins, to know their progenitor race. That was what the parts of Orion preached. At the same time, the Matrix grew increasingly upset the more he spoke with the Terrans, its anger and primal disgust growing more with every interaction. He needed to keep them safe, but he could not be near them, not while he was so volatile.

Thus, he gave the sparklings Bumblebee to be their teacher, and for their own safety, Optimus left. He threw himself into his work, unwilling to interact with the little Terrans for fear of the Matrix's anger growing hotter. He could sense them, every moment of every cycle... their presence on Earth forever lingering at the back of his processors for reasons he could not decipher. Why did the Matrix despise them? He did not know, the relic within him offered no answers. Still he tried to be there for the Terrans as much as he could by hiding them from G.H.O.S.T and periodically prodding Megatron until he would go visit them.

His careful time away ensured that the odd times he interacted with Thrash and Twitch, he remained composed. Combat protocols still ran beneath his plating, screaming and demanding activation, but it was manageable. He could still smile and offer the two Terrans words of wisdom and small amounts of affection. But touch? His whole being blanched when the Terrans came too near. He tried to keep Megatron and Bumblebee between him and the Terrans whenever possible. He couldn't be trusted around them, not when he was so very torn. Megatron found his behavior odd and questioned him a time or two, but usually Optimus's excuses worked and he was able to slip away without too much suspicion.

He could handle it. Just so long as the Terrans stayed a safe distance away, he could pretend, he could maintain a smile and not be drowned in the all encompassing desire to see them obliterated. Never more did he wish Ratchet were with him, or even a medic like First Aid or Ambulon. Someone, anyone, he just needed an explanation, or some sort of reason as to why he felt the way he did. The Matrix offered no answers despite the fact that his desire to raise young directly conflicted with its disgust toward the new sparklings. He knew no one would understand, he knew none would have an answer, and so he continued keeping to himself, doing everything in his power to destroy the pinpricks of primal hatred that constantly rattled his being.

Bumblebee: The Terrans are progressing well in their training. They have trouble focusing, and I admit that it is very irritating, but for their age, they are performing well.

Optimus: That is good to hear.

Bumblebee: I haven't seen you in a while Optimus, and I am sure the Terrans would love to hear from you again. They haven't seen you since the incident with Soundwave.

Optimus: No. I cannot do that. I cannot be near them.

Bumblebee: What? Optimus is something wrong?

Optimus: No, nothing that should concern you... just keep working with the Terrans. I will do my best to convince Megatron to visit in my stead. He is better acquainted with the Terrans anyway.

Bumblebee: But Sir-!

Optimus: Thank you for giving me your report Bumblebee. I hope to hear again from you soon.

It was hard enough keeping suspicion off him with just two Terrans constantly leaving his plating itching and some part of his being shifting unsettlingly. But then three more had to be forged, three more blessings that had Optimus's spark screaming in agony as his natures combatted. He had to grit his denta and clamp his field down tight enough to ache as he greeted the newsparks and learned their designations while planning for their attack against Mandroid. The humans didn't know. They didn't know what lurked amongst them. Neither did his fellows. They couldn't see, they couldn't sense the Terrans for what they were.

À̷̡̢̛̖̼͈̑̐̓́b̵̖͕͖͒̈̓́̌̚ớ̴̧̧̤̻̝͓͎̰̥̙̟͈͗͂̈́̄̀̈́͐̒ͅm̷̖̹͗̀̅͑̐͂i̷̤̗̰̳̞̜̦͕̲̐͋̑͜n̴̡̹̹̯̫̪̥̫̗̗͐̑̿͛̍̌̀́̑͆̕͝ͅä̸̧̦͖́̈̀̋t̷͎̱̠̻̰͇̹̱̫̓̈́̾̃́̀̈́͊̈̓͊̐͋i̸͇͙̮͚̪̽̓̀̊̉͑͒͐͋͒͂͘͜͠ŏ̴̱͍̳͇͕̮̠̞͈ͅṉ̶̤̺͇̼̠̳͉̘̟͚̜͑̔͋̏̿̓͑͌̿̄s̶̛͕̹̙̻̈́̒̉́̎̿̓̃̀͒̓͘. Ḯ̶̬͍̬͖͎̪͈̄̈̈̆͂̋̐͑̈́́͠ṇ̴͎͎̪̤͔̮͎͈͉̪̘́̃n̵̦͑̚̕͝ō̷̧̘͉͍͚̬̗̊̊͒̇̀́͝ͅc̶̛͙̰̳̮͕̃̉̀̾̂̇́̿̾̑́̌͂̾ȩ̵̡̛̝̻̺̜̰̮̪͈̠͙̖̀̋̐̉͜͜n̵̢͓͙̪̪̯̪̠̰̪̦̳̈̾͂̍͌̈͋͝͝ͅt̵̢̬͍͔͉̥͉͓͕̲̥͙̟̀ ̷͉͍̺̑́́̈́̓͜m̴̢̢͚̹̥̝̘̪̟̀ǫ̸͕̣̪̗͙̗͎̝̞̠͌̅͌̓͌̄̀̏̆́͑̅͋̏̚ͅǹ̷̨͍͈̱̄̿̎͂̍̓ͅs̵̛̯̆͛͊̽͒̋̑͂͆̌̔̅̚͠t̶̟͔̼̖̜̺̲̬̩͖̺͍̦̊́͊ẽ̸̬̻̯̫͙͕̞̱͋͗̀͋̔̈́̀̈́̊̀͘͘͜͝ŗ̶̯͔̩͇͂̄̂̈́̈́̄͒̎͊́̕̚̚͠͝ṣ̷̬̘̰̠̹̔̌̄͗̎̈́͗͑̈́͘.̴̡̤̻̲̗͔̋ͅ

His optics locked onto Hashtag as she walked, scanning her endlessly for weaknesses. His audials forever perked as he observed Jawbreaker, primed and ready to find the slightest hint of aggression. His axe burned within its compartment as he watched Nightshade frolic with joy, innocently pleased to be alive. Combat protocols itched with such intensity that he had to dig his digits into his own plating with ever leap into the air Twitch took. And he had to clamp his field down so harshly ever time Thrash even looked in his direction that he could tell Megatron knew something was wrong. He wanted, no, he NEEDED to end this threat. The vermin were spreading, their taint growing as they spawned more of their number. The humans were unwitting hosts, housing parasites that were going to devour them.

The taint was spreading, and the parts of him that remained Orion could no longer fight against the Matrix's truth. All that kept him from killing the Terrans right then and there was the more heretical threat in the form of mandroid. The Terrans managed to live a day longer and it was entirely because Megatron noted his barely contained bloodlust and sent them away.

Megatron took him back to headquarters and tried to prod. But Optimus said nothing, merely twitching every now and then as he retreated to his quarters. It BURNED. His plating itched every moment of every cycle he tried to keep himself composed. Any word of the Terrans nearly had him flinging himself into a rage. The Matrix ordered that they must die. While that which remained of Orion screamed in denial and desperation, it meant nothing against the all encompassing pinpricks that ran across his frame at all hours. It took time, but the desire only grew worse. With his last bout of empathy for the little things, he reached out to Megatron with a simple order.

Optimus: You must guard the Terrans, Megatron.

Megatron: Optimus, what's going on with you? You've been off since the moment the Terrans were forged.

Optimus: If you wish for those things to continue living, you must watch them, protect them, keep them away from ME.

Megatron: Optimus-

Optimus: It burns and aches, the Matrix has made its demand. I cannot keep it contained. Those things... those innocent little abominations... I cannot be near them.

Megatron: What in Primus's name has gotten into you? What has that relic done?

Optimus: Those things... the Terrans... it hates them, it despises them. It wishes them DEAD. If you care for them, do not let our paths cross. They will not leave my grasp unharmed next we meet.

Megatron: This isn't like you. I've never seen you like this before Optimus. Whatever this is, we can deal with it. It would be difficult, but Shockwave or Starscream may have knowledge of where our medics are.

Optimus: I am out of time Megatron. They are not like us, they are tainted. I will kill them the next time they are near. Do not let them near me. Do not make me kill those sparklings.

Megatron was shocked, but he listened. He did what he could to help by taking over reports from Bumblebee and taking up residence with the Malto family for their own safety. The Maltos were rightfully concerned, especially when Megatron began to forbid the Terrans from wandering without his supervision. They didn't understand, and if possible, Megatron intended to keep it that way. Bumblebee was quickly brought into the loop and together they kept dutiful watch, always tracking the Terrans and even getting Arcee and Elita involved in tender to the Terrans when possible.

The threat was growing, and they could sense it as a new presence made itself known night after night not long after they set their watch.

Optimus tried to stay away. He tried to keep calm. He TRIED to ignore the call. But nightmares haunted his every recharge cycles, visions of the Unmaker sending force an army of his spawn... his Terran abominations. His whole frame burned and agony assaulted his spark as the Matrix pulsed, sending shocks through his body as it demanded action. It showed him visions over and over again, causing Optimus to hide in his quarters as much as physically possible for the sake of his fellows. It meant little though when G.H.O.S.T began to make their moves and Optimus found himself creeping out of his quarters in the dead of night.

The call was too strong. He could not stop himself as night after night he tread silently through the forest, taking care to keep himself out of sight as he approached the Malto home. He did not wish to harm the humans, no, he merely needed to remove the parasites. He stayed at the edge of the tree line, watching, waiting, preparing himself for an opportunity to snatch away one of the abominations and destroy it. But he could not act, he could not move, not while Megatron and Bumblebee kept their optics locked onto him at the edge of the forest every night, ensuring he remained at bay. The Matrix would not stand for him harming his own. No... just the Terrans, just the abominations needed to be removed.

It became endless habit for him to stalk the edges of the woods around the Malto home, his gaze locked onto where the Terrans rested. Periodically he would try to step out, to make progress and come nearer, but Megatron and Bumblebee were dutiful. The moment their gazes locked onto him, he hurried back into the forest, waiting for an opportunity. It helped to be on the hunt, it caused the burning to fade as duty settled instead. But even that grew to be insufficient with time. He needed to eliminate the threat, there was no other option. And so slowly but surely over the course of weeks, he came nearer and nearer before allowing himself to retreat in response to Megatron and Bumblebee raising their weapons in his direction.

Nearer and nearer, bit by bit. Soon he would have his chance. Soon he could put an end to the threat. Soon... Soon...

H̶̡̘̭̭̀̀̅̇̀̐͐̐͝ẽ̶̮͇̖̠͚͕͋̾̀̈́ ̷͉̮̝̞̫͈̅̂͒͛̎̂͌͘ć̴̥̬͝ö̷̢̖̠̣́͒̀̔̂́̈́̊̕͘ų̴̡̧̜̭̤̖͖̬̇͐́̔̚l̵̢̺̦̣̦̠̘̭̮̀̃̔̀̕̕͜ḑ̷̥͔̰̦͓̳̏͊̊ ̷̧̥̳̖̼̹̒ͅḿ̷̥̲̰̩̤̦͉̻̠͔̂̿͑a̴̠̙̩̦̿ǩ̶̞͚̪̝͎͔̘̲͙̺̬͐̇͑̐̃̉̑̏ē̶̢͉̣̥̭̘͚̭̟̣͚͑̈̿̓̾̀͑̈́͐͌ ̴̛͔̝͚͖̣͙͓͈̦͎́̓̀̈́͂̊̀̏i̵̫̩̪̺̗̜͕̿͌̒ͅt̷͍͉̭͓͔̒̔̓ ̷̗̗͈͓̥̲̈́̾̎͊̿̐̈́̚̚͠͝š̴̰̈́t̶͎͉̗͕̏̏̑̏͋̓̆̀͜ő̴̘̦̋̒̍̔̊̒̄̈́͝p̶̡̦̳͉̞̳͍̒̓̌̊̂̊͌͋̕ ̵̣̘̰̲͍̭̱͊̋̉̊̋̈́̕h̶̬̰̯̺̓̏̀ự̷̪̺̀̍̐̐̎͌͆̚͘͝ṙ̷̢̺͖͗͌̇̂͛̌̈̊t̴̡̰̼̣̘̯̠̝͙̍̀̂̽̂̚ĩ̵̖͈̝͐͆͊̈́̕͠n̸͇̺̠̝͙̅̐g̷̜̼͈̥̓̂͌͐̂̎̎̐͝

Optimus, about to do a self sacrifice: Permission to die?

Ratchet: Permission denied.

Once more for those in the back.